Werewolf of London: Chapter 7
Tintagel Manor, Bromley Green, Ashford, Kent, England January 15th, 1851
Merlin stretched his legs out in front of him as he sat down in the study of Arthur’s country home. They had intended to go to the London home, but Arthur kept feeling ill. The four of them had traveled from Alba to Austria with many stops on the way because of Arthur’s illness. Morgana had hoped they would reach France before the seventh of January, but that did not happen.
Before they had left Alba, Freya visited Merlin once more, warning him of the moon and its effect on Arthur.
“Although,” she had said as she hovered over the floor, “he is no longer in wolf form, the moon will still affect him. You must beware of a full moon because that is when he will change.”
He tried to look behind her, looking for wings. They were gone this time and he wondered why. She caught him and raised an eyebrow. Merlin smiled sheepishly and asked, “Change? What do you mean?”
Freya’s eyes flitted to the side in discomfort. “He will turn into the wolf during the three days of the full moon. As the moon cycles, so will his wolf instincts.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No,” Freya replied seriously.
Merlin had tried to explain it to Arthur without letting Arthur know that Merlin knew his secret, but it had just come out horribly wrong. Merlin scrunched his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think about it. He shook his head and remembered the first time the moon made Arthur sick. They had made their way to Austria, however halfway there the moon reached one-quarter phase and Arthur threw up the whole day. They reached Austria by the third, but couldn’t leave until the fifth because Arthur was too weak to travel.
The four of them had reached France by the ninth of January and Morgana had not been pleased. Merlin had tried to explain that Arthur must have gotten some kind of illness from being out in the woods, but she wasn’t having any of it. She marched into Arthur’s hotel room and told him to get up and onto the boat to England at one-thirty in the afternoon or she and Gwen would be leaving.
Arthur was up by ten-thirty and they were able to catch an earlier boat. Merlin had fretted, but Arthur claimed he could make it. By the time they landed in England, they hadn’t encountered a full moon yet, even though Merlin was worried they would have. At the port, Merlin grabbed the first Almanac he could find and flipped to the phases of the moon. He made a face when he saw the first full moon would be on the fifteenth. Arthur couldn’t be in London then, he wouldn’t be used to the transformation.
The trip had taken a toll on Arthur and even Morgana realized he wouldn’t be making to London this month. She sighed, sent a telegram ahead of them and bought train tickets to Arthur’s country home. The carriage ride from Ashford to Bromley Green had been painful for everyone, especially Arthur, who had to throw up nearly every mile.
They had arrived at Tintagel Manor on the eleventh and to Merlin’s surprise the home was the exact opposite of Pendragon home in London. It was warm and welcoming. It was also decorated in the Pendragon colors of red and gold, but they were much more friendly than the colors Uther used. The staff was also different. The staff in London disliked Merlin and tried to make him feel as unwelcome as possible at all times. The country staff welcomed Merlin as if he was a part of the family and not someone they had just met.
Arthur was put into his room and Merlin did his best to care for him, but it was getting beyond his control. He needed Gaius’ help, desperately.
“Morgana, I need help with Arthur’s illness. It is beyond me,” he had told her worriedly.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Gwen and I shall go into Ashford and send Gaius a telegram asking him to come quickly. You just take care of Arthur.”
“I will.”
He had waved as the two women left to go back to Ashford. Merlin really did need Gaius’ help, but he wanted the girls away when Arthur changed. They didn’t need to see him like that. That led to where he was right now, in the study contemplating the past few days. Most of the staff had left for the day, with only the cook and butler left and even they were leaving after supper, which is what Merlin wanted.
“Master Merlin?” the butler, Josiah asked.
Merlin jumped and looked at him. “Please, do not call me that, Josiah. Just Merlin is fine.”
Josiah bowed. “Molly has made dinner. Master Arthur wishes to eat at the table.”
“All right,” Merlin scowled. “But I am going to tell him it is a bad idea.”
“You are the only one who ever does,” Josiah chuckled. “Not even Lady Igraine told Master Arthur no.”
“Well someone has too. His ego does not need to get any bigger.” Merlin went upstairs to help get Arthur out of bed.
Josiah chuckled again as he followed Merlin up the stairs. “I suppose you will tell him that to his face.”
“Of course,” Merlin scoffed. He knocked on Arthur’s door and went in. “You prat, Arthur! Why do you want to eat at the table when you can’t even stand up on your own!”
I am glad Master Arthur met someone like Master Merlin, Josiah thought as shook his head in amusement and went into Arthur’s bedroom.
Merlin sat up straight in his bed, looking around. He saw that is was very bright and he stumbled out of bed and to the window.
“Shit,” he swore as he dashed from the window to the door. The full moon was high in the sky and Merlin swore he saw a wolf running across the field.
He ran out of his room and down the hall, then turned sharply and pounded up the stairs. Then he ran to Arthur’s room and slammed the door open. Inside, Merlin was unsurprised to see Arthur’s bed a mess and the window smashed into pieces.
“Shit!” he swore again.
He ran out of the house, even though he was just wearing pajama bottoms, and down to the field. Once there, in he turned in circles, looking for gold sparkles. “Where is he?” he called out. “Show me, please!”
He spotted the faint glimmer trailing off down the field and towards the road. Merlin winced and hoped Arthur hadn’t run into anyone. He stood in the field for a moment, uncertain what to do.
“Obviously, I should go after him,” Merlin said to himself. “But I am half naked and what if I run into someone. They will think I am mad.” He paused. “I am mad, talking to myself in bloody field. Well,” he asked looking around. “Any advice?” No one popped out to see him, but the sparks leading to the road did grow brighter.
“Fine,” he sighed. “I know what to do.” He began to jog towards the road and began to call out to Arthur.
Earlier that night
Arthur tossed and turned in his bed. He was covered in sweat and moaned in pain. He wanted to call out for Merlin, but he didn’t.
Merlin cannot know the truth. He will not- Arthur’s thoughts were cut off as a bolt of pain shot down his spine. He groaned and fell out of his bed.
Arthur crawled to the window and looked up at the moon. “No,” he begged. “I do not want to change. Please, it hurts.”
Another flash of pain went throughout his body. Arthur thought he was going to be sick again as he had a minor convulsion. Once it was over, he put his head against the floor and panted. Suddenly, his back arched up as his limbs grew longer and more muscular. He had blond hair spring up all over his body, which also grew larger and his nightclothes were ripped apart as he outgrew them. His face changed from human features into wolf-like features. Only his eyes stayed the same. Once the transformation was complete, he threw his head back and howled.
Arthur stood up slowly, getting used to his wolf body. He turned his head both ways and sniffed. No food. Need food. He backed up a bit then took a running jump out of his window and landed on the ground on all fours. He sniffed again and took off across the field and down the road in search of food.
Merlin finally found Arthur curled up by an abandoned cart near the forest. “Damn it Arthur,” he scowled down at the werewolf. “I have been worried about you and you have just been sleeping the whole time.” He bent down and tugged on Arthur’s ear. “Up you foul beast.”
Arthur snuffled and tucked his nose under a hand. Merlin tugged on his ear again and Arthur turned to glare at him.
“That look will not work on me, moron. Up, up! We are going home.” Merlin put his hands on his hips and continued to scowl at Arthur.
Arthur snorted, but got up on his back legs and towered over Merlin.
“That will not work either.”
Arthur cocked his head and whimpered.
Merlin rolled his eyes, “Yes all right. You are terrifying. Oh, look at me. I am so scared.” Merlin held his hands up in mock horror.
Arthur huffed and dropped down so he was on all fours. He head-butted Merlin in the stomach and began to walk back home.
“Ow,” Merlin complained as he rubbed his stomach. “Whether you are human or a werewolf, you have a hard head.”
Arthur looked over his shoulder and Merlin and seemed to smirk at him.
“You,” Merlin called after the retreating werewolf, “are a gigantic prat!” He watched Arthur walk away, and then ran to catch up to him. Who knows what trouble he will get into without me.
Chapter 8